


It's Too Late Now

by CosmicSealant



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Alaska, Angst, Away from civilization, Blood, Hurt, Science, Werewolf, Work In Progress, Wounds, professor Membrane is in denial, will update at least once a week
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 23:23:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21107687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicSealant/pseuds/CosmicSealant
Summary: Professor Membrane gets attacked by a creature in the remote mountains of Alaska. He and his team worry for their safety, what they don't know is that what they fear most sleeps among them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First time really writing a fanfiction that I decided to post! If you catch any serious grammatical errors please point them out so I may fix them. Thank you for your time!

The professor found himself holding his left side after it was slit open by a sudden attack. He knew that following a wild reading just as the sun was setting was a terrible idea. He knew it was futile to search for a material deposit that was almost assuredly a miscalculation. But alas, he was a man of science and he needed every scrap of data he could muster. His readings, careful planning, and all of his precautions would not have prepared him for what happened to get him into this mess. 

A shot went off, his lab assistant fired a round into the being that had attacked him. Whatever weapon this giant was using was large and sharp. It peeled the Professor's winter coat open like wet paper. He felt the warm blood drip into his boots. He was so dizzy as he went over the fairytale he was chasing in his head.

He was after a supposed 'miracle' foretold by his readings. He had set up an exhibition, one that may take more than a year. Somewhere under this forest was a goldmine of resources so valuable he had government officials that were sent to live with his research team. Maybe it was uranium, or some other high-profile material that he was after, maybe it was a new material all together. He was also tasked with doing all of the species checks and welfare checks on the ecosystem. He already had multiple awards to his name, this discovery was merely an afterthought.

Now, it was a permanent scar on his side. The professor wheezed as he fell forward on his hands. He tried to force himself to hold his side again, he would die soon if he lost too much blood. His assistant grabbed him, pushing him down on his right side. He got a good look at his attacker whilst the assistant applied pressure to his wound. 

"Grab the med kit, this is going to need immediate attention." The professor huffed, this was going to hurt, bad. He focused on his attacker, now completely still under the pale moonlight. Steam rose into the cold winter air from the bullet hole in the man's chest. It was a man. He wore tattoos that depicted scantily clad women brandishing weapons and alcohol. He also had a tattered pair of khaki shorts on, with a shredded tank top to go with it. He had a burly beard and had an untreated cataract in his right eye. Clearly a man who has not left the woods for a long while. 

Searing pain started in the professor's side. The assistant was a trained medical professional. He swapped a horrible gel solution into the wound that completely sterilized it and the surrounding skin. The professor took a long, deep breath. He was gritting his teeth as he held his eyes shut. The cold metal of the needle pierced his tender skin, making him flinch. The pain was bearable, but it still made him physically react, which was a rare occurrence. 

The assistant continued, holding the skin together as they kept sewing the Professor's skin back together. There were two lacerations, one was deep and nearly a foot long, the other was directly above it and half as long. He looked down to the professor's obstructed face. Then to the assailant that lay dead in the cold underbrush of the forest. "Where is the weapon?" Another voice asked as they searched the ground. 

A bright light blazed on near the professor's face as a woman in latex gloves removed his goggles. "I'm fine, I'm fine," the professor muttered calmly. The stitching in his side was nearly complete. His eyes wavered in pain, why did he feel so sick? "You're not fine, you are going to pass out!" A slight panic arose among his group. The woman gestured a couple times to other team members, the professor could only focus on the two government officials near his attackers body. "New ballistic rounds." She said pointing to the wound. "The fuckers cost 24 dollars a piece," they didn't really react to the professor's situation. They were both women, he was going to remember their faces so he could report them. Chatting away as he whittled away on the ground. One was light skinned with curled hair tied in a bun, the other was white with a river of thin dark hair resting on her shoulders. "24 dollars? That's it?" Joked the darker woman. "That's like a whole paycheck for you isn't it?" The larger woman waved a hand. "84 percent silver," and then the professor blacked out. The last thing he heard was the panicking of his team and hands grabbing his sides to lift him onto a stretcher.

The professor and his team were stationed deep in the mountains. They had planned to stay there for months. Every conceivable crevice of the mountain range was to be scanned and marked, at no point was he to dig on this protected land, he was only tasked with sniffing out the materials. Temporary buildings had been constructed their first days here. They had medical supplies and access to food and water. No one expected this to happen so quickly, especially to the Professor, the man leading the operation. Although famous, the professor did not falter at dirtying his hands with work. His eyes flew open at the beep of a machine, the sky was now pitch black, as opposed to the blazing orange sunset he last viewed. How stupid was that? Chasing a wild reading as it was getting dark? He was practically begging for something to go wrong. 

He tried to sit up, but was promptly stopped by an assistant. "Sir!" He said in surprise, "you're awake!" This grabbed the attention of a nearby scientist, who was staring into the screen of a laptop. The professor waved his hand, "yes yes, I'm awake." He adjusted himself and looked around. "What on Earth happened out there?" He demanded. A pause, then an explanation. 

"A man attacked you, he was identified as a convicted felon that was on the run. We were unable to find the weapon he used." The professor immediately let his hands wander to the gauze wraps around his abdomen. Rubbing his head, the professor sat up and removed the medical equipment from his chest. He heard a machine flatline as he removed a patch from his chest. "He was most likely afraid we were after him, and decided to fight." The professor mumbled to the assistant. They nodded in agreement, their fingers typing feverishly on a computer near them. The professor let his mind wander as he made his way to the 'barracks' as his team lovingly called it. Really, it was just a room filled with bunks, cots and sleeping bags. Males were supposed to be separated from females, but of course there was a couple in a bag on the floor, peacefully sleeping. The professor ignored it, at least they were quiet. He climbed his way to the bunk he had selected on day one. To find it taken by a young employee, which was no big deal. But something nagged at the professor, this was his spot. This was his, selected by him and marked as his. The professor grabbed the shoulder of the scientist and shook him awake. Shocked, he looked up with terror in his eyes. "Get. Out." The professor snarled through gritted teeth. The scientist complied, shakily climbing off the bunk and sinking pathetically onto the cold tile floor. Resting under the bunks, he dared not question the professor, he had never acted that way before and he wasn't going to pry for explanations.

The professor settled into his warm bunk and hung his lab coat and goggles on the metal stilt holding the bed frame up. His slipped his gloves off as well and tossed them with his coat. He began to rethink his behavior, why did he do that? He sulked under the thin cover with guilt. He should have just picked a different bed, now that young scientist was sleeping on the floor. His stitches stung his side, and reminded him of why he needed the spot. Still feeling awful, the professor barely slept that night, drifting in an out of sleep. Just as he felt the loving arms of rest at his fingertips, he opened his eyes to find his employees bustling below him, who were getting dressed and ready for the day. 

Great.

He checked the clock on the wall, it was a digital clock which displayed the time, temperature and weather on the dim screen. It was 5 a.m; the time they all got up. Brushing back his cowlick, the professor sat up and stretched, all of his joints gave a satisfying snap. He climbed off his bunk and pulled at his cowlick, it hung pathetically in a tangled heap on his shoulder. Sighing, he feel to his knees and reached under the bunk to grab his suitcase, it had his toothbrush and cleansing solution he created, of course it cleaned his robotic arms and managed his hair. He ambled his way out of the barracks, and into the shower room. Males were definitely supposed to be separate from females here. Any breakage of that rule resulted in an immediate termination from Membrane labs. Everyone was horsing around of course, they shut right up as the professor walked in. Finishing their showers and drying off.

He stopped, his stitches ached. He can't get them wet for another 30+ hours. Groaning, he soaked a washcloth and cleaned himself manually, avoiding the stitches. He thinks of the attack, he was focused on his phone, why? He stops, he was texting his kids. They must be terrified. Speeding up his routine, he brushed his teeth. Spitting down a nearby drain. He threw on his normal attire, his lab coat and combed his cowlick into a manageable bolt-like shape behind him. He practically ran into the barracks and checked his phone, hastily discarding his things back into the suitcase and kicking it back under the bunk. 

No new messages.

The feeling didn't rest well in his gut. He typed a hello, and a list of things to do while he was gone and sent it. Sliding the phone into his pocket. He had the strangest hunger settling in his gut. Frowning, he headed towards he meeting area were breakfast was held. It was still early in the exhibition, so they still had good food cooked and served. A woman handed him his ration. A part of him screamed out for more. The professor easily shook this feeling away and sat down. Across the table a couple chairs down sat the scientist he had kicked out of his bunk. He was talking with a woman, seemingly joyful and awake. He quieted as the professor sat, and tried to tell the woman politely he didn't want to talk anymore. Guilt tore into the professor's chest as he watched the man eat. He couldn't have been older than 23, the professor sighed and kept eating. He would get over it soon. The meal was pretty good, although small. It contained an omelette with chives, along with whatever whole fruit that was left. He was late to breakfast, so he got a bruised orange. He ate faster than he normally did, to his surprise, was he truly that hungry? A sick feeling settled in the back of his throat. The professor checked the schedule for today, he was set to take a team out to the west of their camp, but it was crossed out with red pen. In bold words a new message read, 'SICK DAY. DON'T PULL YOUR STITCHES OUT!' The professor looked up, he was known to always be the one overworking himself. That's what got him hurt last night. He tossed the clipboard to the side and walked outside, ignoring the warnings given to him. He might not be able to go far, but he was going to work.


	2. CHAPTER 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait, I am graduating early from school and the pressure is ON

The freezing morning air clung to the cold metal of his arms. It made his entire body shiver as he pulled his gloves off to work inside of a machine outside instead of his original task. It was a cell tower, meant to allow his team to contact family. 

He was running a standard maintenance test, just to be cautious. He attempted to look at the top, but it was obstructed by the thick fog. He decided to look around, was he being watched? Was someone seconds away from attacking him? Finishing the job? He leaned on the tower and took a deep breath. He wasn't acting right, this wasn't normal. He didn't let himself sit down. He pulled himself together and forced the cell towers panel closed. 

The base was secured on a small hill, around them was dense forest, they were careful to place their base out of the way of potential land slides. Pulling his senses together, he listened carefully, the wind was insanely loud in his ear, it whipped cold air into his collar and filled his senses with a frigid sensation. It wasn't worth his time to stand around outside, he headed inside and entered a lab area. 

Scientists sat neatly at their desks, each working on their own projects. Some stopped working to marvel at the sight of the famous scientist before them, others continued working. The professor liked those people, just keep working, no need to stop. He was quick to notice the young scientist working on a small trail camera, he had gone down the incline to retrieve it, this camera could have potentially captured the moments before the professor was attacked. He pulled up the camera feed onto a monitor. The professor eavesdropped on the video. He flinched as large creature sprinted across the screen, too quick to tell what it was, but it looked human. Now, leaning over the scientist, he checked the time. It was too perfect, this was the man that attacked him. He was moving incredibly fast, inhumanly fast. The professor ripped the SD card from the computer and turned to the scientist, all the guilt he had for kicking him out of his bunk was replaced with a sudden irritated feeling. He was still able to muster a sentence.

"Great work, I think I'll take this for the time being." The scientist nodded and was quick to put space between them. 

More frantically he would like to admit, the professor ripped his laptop off of its charging port and flung himself into his bunk. He checked to footage over and over again. He grabbed a ruler and calculated the amount of space one stride from this man covered, and how quickly it was done. The readings he got were nearly impossible. 

This... creature was moving at almost 30 miles an hour. Finally, the professor willed himself to stare at the beast. Gone was the human he thought it was, it's eyes were blazing with light, its sharp, disgusting fangs were curved in a wicked smile. The trail cameras night vision didn't have color, but it had picked up the tattered shirt, and how it was stretched over not skin, but thick fur. A searing terror gripped the professor. It was not real, there had to be an explanation, the fear of a creature in the woods was nothing but child's play. A story, something to scare gullible people with. The professor slammed the screen shut and laid down. Forcing his heart to stop racing, the primal fear he was experiencing was nothing but human instinct. He grabbed his chest, was he having a heart attack? He wanted to vomit, the uncomfortable feeling in his chest began to crawl up his throat. He wanted to scream, there was no escaping it. 

He was going to scream. Why? Why was he having such a strong reaction to a frame of a video? It was just a picture! He flung himself off his bunk, clapping a hand over his mouth like he was going to vomit. He tore a window out of its frame and escaped into the cold air. He slid down the embankment in front of his base and kept running. Trees tore by his face, the wind ripped at his collar. Leaping over a fallen tree, he finally fell to his knees in a clearing. His knees ached in pain as they landed on rocks obstructed by moss. With no one around, and the seething fear trapped in his throat, he screamed.

It reverberated off of the rock faces around the clearing, the animals around him ceased to move, everything stopped to marvel in his agony. The scream didn't sound like a voice anymore, it sounded like a cold, hateful howl. The pain began to drain from his muscles and leave with the howl. As soon as it was over, the professor felt tears stream from his eyes. He pulled his goggles off and tossed them to the side and he let his body fall forward onto the soggy moss in front of him. Heaving loudly, he gripped the rocks below. What was that? Why did he do that? He wasn't cold anymore, he just felt relief and a new calmness sweep over him. His abdomen tightened when he heard himself sob. 

What was happening? What had happened to him? Was he going mad? He needed to think. He was attacked by a... man. He was attacked by a man. He felt his side ache, as he heaved another breath. He acquired the footage of a trail cam that captured the moments before he was attacked. On this footage he saw...

In denial, he let his mind wander to his home. His warm, comfortable home with his two children. He stopped, his children. He remembered Dib talking wildly about the supernatural on the night the professor left to the airport. He made sure to talk with his kids and spend every last second with them. No matter how much his mind nagged him to get back to work, his kids would get over his absence in no time. He was sitting on the couch with them, Gaz was peacefully asleep while Dib watched his favorite show... something about mysteries. The episode they watched, it was about some wild man that lived in the woods. Dib would constantly try to guess what the episode was building to, his top guess was... a werewolf.

The word slithered through the professor's mind like a parasite. He was in too deep, this was all foolish. He sat up and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his gloves. He didn't consider the thought a second time. His wound was not from a werewolf. This was all happening because it was... infected. That seemed to pacify his mind, but not for long. He checked his wound, it was healing as it should, hell, it was healing abnormally fast. He covered it back up and finally forced his body to stand up. Feeling his way back up the steep incline, the professor let his mind wander. The sharp rocks and confusing surface did not make him falter. His robotic arms were making this easier on his mind. This allowed him to come up with a million scientific reasonings on why he was acting like a fool. There are no monsters, beasts or fairytales. 

Finally, after a torturous fight with himself, he pulled his tired body up onto the path back to the base. He was filthy, covered with mud and other grime. He was thankful his heavy winter attire covered his skin, so he didn't have to worry about his stitches getting infected. Practically throwing himself onto his back, he watched the cloudy sky. The path was gravel, jabbing his back as he heaved a couple of times. He noted the hint of a raindrop on his cheek as he stood up and continued up the trail. Luckily everyone was still out, so no one noticed him sneak back inside through the window he dislodged. He slipped it back into place, noting how much harder it was for him to lift the window, much less force it back into its metal frame. He tossed his coat, pants, and gloves into the laundry. He washed up a bit with a soapy cloth and fixed his hair. He noticed that he was starving as he peered up to the clock:

1 p.m.

His team was fixing to eat lunch. He heard the front door open and voices pour in. He threw on a sweatsuit and cleaned his face. He was quick to help with lunch, the women were thankful for their boss to pitch in, but they sat him down and told him to not strain himself. He huffed as he ignored the order and cleaned the tables. He couldn't help it, he had to be moving and working. He may be beat, but that was no excuse to watch someone work their lives away for his own sake. He heard a lab assistant in the kitchen, "Lookit' what me and Lucy bagged," he said. The professor immediately recognized the voice as Rudy's. He was known for his scientific ingenious, but not matter what no one could shake the country off him. 

The professor's eyes went wide. He smelt animal, fresh meat. He couldn't help but find his way to the kitchen to gaze at the doe that Rudy was hosing down. "Afternoon, boss man!" He laughed, "I got us a real meal today, Blacktail deer, an Alaskan delicacy," he said, as he picked up his hunters knife. He watched intently as Rudy peeled the hide off the doe, he was so hungry... He forced himself to walk away and finish cleaning the table. 

He had deduced his behavior was from a fever, rather than the fairytales that danced through his mind. Some scientist came in and sat down to wait, others grabbed mre's and slinked away, back to work. The professor found himself seated at a table, picking up his cutlery as he was served a small choice cut. It smelt amazing, delicately cutting a section off the meal, he began to eat. He chewed slowly and forced himself not to wolf it down like some sort of monster. 

"So when I was mapping out that soil plot-" one of his team members was talking about her current task not too far down the table. She was wide-eyed as she spoke. "We heard this... well how would you describe it?" She turned to her coworker. They pondered for a moment and retorted with: "I think it was a howl," the professor suddenly stopped eating. 

He was too far away from anyone to hear him. It must have been something else. He put his fork down and focused on the conversation. "I heard it too," another voice chimed in, "It sounded like a... wolf?" The first woman shook her head. 

"No way. It was too loud and... well I don't know how to describe it! Maybe it was human, it definitely sounded like a scream at first," she said writing something down. 

The professor's eyes shot wildly around as he looked at everyone that was seated, were people staring? Was he just paranoid? He stopped, they had to have heard something else. There was no way- 

His mind snapped violently to his plate. Then, to other people's plates of venison. The conversation sounded like mumbles and grunts to him now. Nothing mattered except his food. He put his arm up on the table, like a line of defense to his left. A protective wall against them and his food. Stabbing another piece with his fork, he ate faster. He tuned out the others as they debated if a bear could make a sound like that. Some said cougars made noises similar to screams, others protested that cougars are extremely rare to see in Alaska, and perhaps it was a Lynx. 

Finishing his meal, the professor stared at his empty plate. That was not nearly enough to sate his hunger. He looked around, everyone was taking their time. Maybe he was just sick, he held his side and felt the stitching through his sweatshirt. He slinked off back to the barracks, sliding into his stone cold covers and stared into the paneled ceiling. He should really go outside, and relieve his mind of fantasies of a wolfman stalking the forest. He opened his laptop and tried to call home. It was just past 2:30p.m. His children had to be home, it was the weekend. He watched a gif of a satellite dish move side to side on his screen with the word 'Calling...' under it as the signal beamed out to his home, hundreds of miles away. 

Dib was quick to pick up. His face beamed with happiness as he cheered out the word, "dad!" He had a grin on his face. His sister violently pushed him out of the way to take up the entirety of the frame. "Hey dad." She said in the same monotone voice she always had. It was clear that they were doing alright, and this brought comfort to know his children were doing well on their own. Dib was rubbing his eye as he lifted himself back into view. 

"I'm happy that you two seem to be doing well by yourselves, did you remember-" he stopped himself, there was no need to ask, he was confident that they would not stray from his instructions and chores. Dib of course talked about his show, while Gaz slowly backed out of frame, playing on her game slave. 

He was happy to see them, but the call was short. He regrets leaving them like that, but he had a job to do and he was going to finish it.

He continued work for weeks afterwards, the work was exhausting and the hours were grueling. He felt a lot better and he even was able to remove his stitches. He finally laid down to sleep on a cold night.


	3. Wild Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! And maybe I’ll actually finish this one too! This chapter has some serious descriptions of gore, be warned!

He continued work for weeks afterwards, the work was exhausting and the hours were grueling. He felt a lot better and he even was able to remove his stitches. He finally laid down to sleep on a cold night.

His dreams scared him, left him awake in a cold sweat, his heart pounded against his ribcage as he stared into the darkness of the room. His senses reacted to every sound that his coworkers made in their sleep. He pulled the covers over his shoulders and tried to go back to sleep. He hadn't had any of these, crazy reactions for weeks. He tried to forget it and think about work. His mind betrayed him as he relived his dreams, he was stuck under something in the woods, it pinned him down by his chest. It smelt of decay and rot, maggots nested in his head, he wasn't able to fight back. He watched helplessly as he was carved away, alone in the moonlight. He was awake now, safe from the hell of his dreams. He let his hands fold over his abdomen as he checked the clock, 4:30.

He was asleep for over 12 hours. His stomach writhed with hunger, since he missed dinner the day before, again. Shrugging his blanket off, he waited for 5 a.m. There was no use in trying to drift back to sleep. His mind focused and his senses sharpened. He listened carefully to every noise, the stirring of a scientist below as he awoke as well. The light of a phone blazed on under his bunk, and was immediately dimmed by the swipe of a finger. He shut his eyes and listened to a strange sound, he could not think of what it was. Then it hit him, he was hearing things from outside, the sound of a miscalculated snap of a twig. He stopped, there was something outside, maybe an animal. He slid out of his bed, causing a stir below him as he peered out of the window. There was a Blacktail deer, it had its eyes facing the professor. It's antlers stood on its head like a crown, it commanded authority. A laser focus was shared between them. It scared him, how was he able to hear that? The deer remained vigilant, unfazed by the man behind a window.

A voice cut through his wild thoughts, "What's out there?" The professor whipped around, holding his chest in surprise, his heart was furiously cycling blood through his system. It peeled his surroundings wide open, he heard every noise, every shift, every breath. The buck was taunting his hunger, it was begging for a chase. A wild run through the woods, perhaps the buck would impale him with the daunting rack on his head. 

"There is an animal out there, I heard it outside," the professor admitted. Curiosity grabbed the scientist's attention as he silently made his way next to the professor. He peered out the window as well, seeing the buck as it turned around and leaped its way back into the brush. It was quick, but it left the professor with a feeling of rage. He left the window and flipped the lights on. Groans and murmurs erupted from the resting team members as they began to sit up. The cold air was tough to get used to. The professor hastily began his morning routine. He grabbed a fresh set of lab clothes, tailored for the cold weather and took his things to the washroom. The room was cold and empty. 

He tossed his sweatsuit into the laundry receptacle near the room and turned the dial to the shower. Freezing water slapped him in the face, his skin pulled tight as he sat through it, waiting for the warm water. Finally, he was able to apply his cleansing solution. Brushing his cowlick back, he felt the water clean the grime away from his body. The water felt divine as it washed over him, he missed the feeling. He scrubbed his body meticulously, feeling gross after days of not showering. He finally had the strength to pull himself out of the warm water and dry off. Slipping into his lab gear, he checked his surroundings and left. As others poured in, he found his way to breakfast. Picking up an apple, he read the schedule, he was to go and research the lake near them, scientist claimed that the animals were congregating there, nonsense. He slapped the clipboard back in its place on the wall and suited up with an extra couple of layers. It was freezing outside, the weather flirting with the idea of pouring snow all over them. He went to his room to retrieve his supplies, a large hiking bag and a canteen. He also took an mre, with a thermos of warm beef soup. 

Pushing the door of the base open, he was met with a cold, dark atmosphere. He opened his metal thermos and began to drink its contents. Whoever cooked this deserved a medal, it got his entire body warmed up. The entire world seemed a bit warmer as he sampled the divine soup. He found himself along the trail where he was attacked, the trees leaned in a little closer, and the air felt thicker. He could smell death, his blood had spilled in this road, and no rain had come to clean it, it smelt like iron and choked the professor. Ignoring it as best he could, he walked over the rust colored stain on the gravel and kept walking. His boots ground the gravel a little less loudly as it slowly turned to dirt. He was farther away from the base now. He wondered if someone was watching him, his head jerked to attention. He scanned the tree line, nothing. He pulled on his backpack straps and kept walking. He heard running water. He couldn't believe this large-scale program was approved. The amount of paperwork he had to sift through and read carefully was a thought he hoped he would never have to sit through again. Every tool had to be examined and tested, no explosives or large equipment was permitted under any circumstances. This was still technically protected land, he just had to prove there were resources here worth digging up. 

Finally, he reached the mouth of a half-frozen river, it poured into a giant lake that was impossible to get across without a boat. There was no civilization in sight. Just mountains and cold, winter forests. Kneeling, the professor checked for any signs of gold, he knew it was here in the untouched regions of Alaska. Finding nothing, the professor took samples of the water. He slumped back, and watched the water cascade through the river and out into the icy lake.

Minutes turned into an hour. The professor had stopped altogether, listening to the sounds of the river. He checked the time, "7:45," he sat up and shook his head. It was time to get back to work, brushing small stones off of his coat and pants. He followed the rim of the lake, drawing out a small paper map to turn into the department of resources. The work was to be precise and he didn't miss a beat, every paper he filled out was exact. As he finished writing down a couple physical traits of his surroundings he was interrupted by Rudy, who had followed him down the slopes of the Alaskan forest.

"Heya boss," he said quietly, he was holding the corpse of a hare he had trapped. The professor groaned, "We are not here to hunt, I am also positive that you are poaching." He stated, turning back to his papers. Rudy slung the hare over his shoulder, "I'm aware, I jus' don't care." He laughed at his own rhyming. The professor could easily have him fired and arrested, but that takes time, and Rudy has proven his worth to his team more than once. He shrugged Rudy off and tried to focus on his map.

His own handwriting looked foreign to him. Every scratch on that paper was perfectly legible, but the professor struggled to read it. He shook his head and put the map away.

Hours passed, the professor and Rudy were sitting in front of a fire Rudy had started. He was cooking the hare on a spit. The pelt was laying flat on a couple of rocks, "You only take pelts in the winter." Rudy explained. "They are thick and new, if you take a pelt any other time of year it is surely going to wear out." He poked the rabbits flesh, cooked to a perfect golden crisp over the fire.

He took the stick off of the flames and separated the choice cuts and offered Membrane a fair share. It wasn't much, but it was good. The professor sank his teeth in the rabbits haunches. The tender meat fell from the bone with ease. The taste was bland and unseasoned, but it was delicious anyways. The professor felt odd, he was having trouble focusing and then, everything went black.

He didn't know how much time had passed, or where he was, but he was freezing cold as he opened his eyes to look around, the sun was setting. Was he dead? He wiped his forehead, his glove was soaked with blood. He shot up in surprise, was he bleeding? He looked around, there were puddles and splotches of blood everywhere. He fell to his knees as the world started to spin in his head. He heard the howls of wolves, he saw them in his head. He was nauseous, the world kept spinning, faster and faster. 

He felt his healed wound sting with pain and a screaming howl, he began to scream in terror. Covering his head with his arms.

Then, suddenly, he was still, he was being shaken by a familiar voice. "Sir! Sir!" He found that his robotic hands had Rudy by the collar. Out of shock he dropped Rudy to the ground. He held his neck, "You attacked me!" The professor staggered backwards, "No I didn't! I-I" he was still shocked from the dream he had, he still wasn't quite all there. 

Rudy took off running, the professor chased him. He didn't know what would happen, but he had to talk it out. There was no telling what would happen to his reputation if Rudy told someone that he attacked him. "Wait! Stop right there! You're fired!" The professor stopped, Rudy froze. 

"I-I didn't mean that..." The professor breathed, "I just need you to listen-" Maybe it was time to tell someone about his strange afflictions. Rudy never turned around, but he staggered backwards. He was backing away from something. The professor squinted, trying to see what was going on.

Rudy whipped around and began to run. "RUN! RUN!" He screamed, the professor wasted no time, he turned around and bolted. Rudy had never looked so shaken in his life, whatever he had seen was horrific. The professor looked back in between strides, Rudy was behind him still, "don't break your stride! RUN!" There was a sense of fierce urgency in his voice. 

There was something following them, he could hear it's heavy legs kicking up gravel behind them. Heavy paw pads made to glide over the Alaskan landscape easily caught up to the much slower Rudy.

“OH GOD! NO!” The screams from Rudy we’re harrowing. The sound of his body hitting the cold ground was sickening, and the wrenching of his flesh from his bones was worse. The professor slipped on a jagged rock, falling on his side, everything went black once more.

The feeling was back, the feeling of weightlessness, of suspension. Which was immediately followed by pure mortal terror. He was dreaming again, and maybe this time he wouldn’t wake up.

But he did.

He was alive, surrounded by scientists and blinding white light. 

“Vital signs?” A woman asked. “Rudy’s dead! He’s DEAD!” Another terrorized scientist chimes in. “The professor is alive...” The professor groggily turned his head and was met with a face. It was Rudy, but nothing about this face said Rudy, he was pale, bug eyed, and covered in dried blood. His lips were missing exposing the muscle of his jaw and his teeth.

“For the love of god zip up his body bag! He’s dead Lauren! He’s DEAD!” And that was the last The professor saw of Rudy. A black body bag.

“This mission is done for. We can’t continue to live out here.” A man said firmly. “That’s up to the professor.” The professor’s mind was fading, he felt like he wasn’t there. His body was paralyzed, but his mind was working ten times as much as it usually would.

The next day, he disbanded the mission and forced everyone to go home. As he was packing, he calmly looked out into the woods, he could hear the unnatural sounds of the helicopters in the distance coming to extract them.

Some part of him, deep inside, swore this was his home now, and he was making a big mistake.


End file.
